Bamboo Shoots
by Razvanor
Summary: Kenshin, an experienced samurai, tells a family a story about how he nearly thought he was fifty years in the future. Mystery and Parody of an old story.


**Bamboo Shoots**

The red-head samurai sat slowly sipping his green tea. The mist clouded over his face, pricking his eyelids with heated moisture. His calm, violet eyes seemed to smile at the kind peasant family sitting around him.

"Forgive me for intruding on your home. A thousand thanks for your hospitality."

A graying woman chuckled and waved a hand airily. "No, Sir Samurai, it is an honor. But we do require a bit of payment if you could so spare it."

The samurai smiled at the woman. "But of course. What was it you had in mind?"

A small, raven-haired boy stood up suddenly. "A story, a story."

The mother chuckled and nodded. "Yes, perhaps a story of your exploits as a warrior. I believe that should pay very well for your moderate meal."

The warrior nodded. "Hmm, a story. Let me see. Ah, I have one. This is a story of deception, confusion, and a bit of stupidity on my part." He leaned back against the white painted wall. He took another sip of tea before launching into the tale.

"When I had just left my master, the honorary Hiko Sejirou, I was arrogant and very confident in my skills with a blade. However, I was very poor and had to resort to taking up jobs as a guard, escort, or fighter. One such job was for a wealthy merchant who wished to travel safely from Edo to Kyoto. There was little to fear from thieves but he hired me anyway. He was a very paranoid man, you see."

-

Katsura Kogorou glanced at the proud looking samurai walking regally beside him, his eyes flicking left and right as they walked down a deserted country back road. Long red hair drawn back in a low, long ponytail. A wakazashi and a katana swung slowly in time with the swordsman's gait. A true warrior. A fearsome one as well.

Katsura glanced at the distant mountains, where the sun was slowly slipping behind the jagged peaks. And he felt safe.

-

A sip of green tea. "I was beginning to get hungry as the shadows lengthened. No doubt my employer felt the same. Regrettably, there was no inn along that stretch of road. However…"

-

"Himura, stop for a moment."

Kenshin stopped and watched as his benefactor began to sniff at the air. It was not long before he smelled it as well. "Someone is cooking meat," Kenshin said slowly.

Katsura grinned wide. "That must mean a house is near by. Perhaps we should see if they have some space to sleep. If anything, we'll eat well."

Kenshin nodded and spotted a small trail leading a meandering path into the surrounding forest. Katsura saw it as well and began to head down it.

-

"Now, you must remember that I was still very inexperienced. My instinct should have told me immediately that no inn should have been hidden in the forest. But I was far too hungry to bother with logic at the time."

The old woman chuckled knowingly and refilled his cup with tea. "Men always think with their stomachs."

The samurai smiled. "Indeed." Sip. "The inn was quite far in the forest, nearly a quarter of a mile and we were beginning to suffer pangs of hunger. We came across a small copse of bamboo as we walked. I, nearly delirious with hunger, noticed some bamboo shoots. All I could think of at the time was how wonderful they would be boiled and served with some rice. I continued to stare at them until we finally rounded the copse and saw the inn."

-

Kenshin glanced away from some bamboo as Katsura sighed in relief. A small, tidy house stood before them. White walls, a wooden porch, and a freshly thatched straw roof all gave a sense of hospitality. A young woman stood on the porch, sweeping slowly. Something was a bit odd about her, but Kenshin couldn't quite realize what it was. She looked up at them, as if startled, before smiling warmly.

"Sirs, are you in need of an inn? We are modestly furnished, but comfortable." She put the broom down and folded her hands. It was then that Kenshin noticed that she had six fingers on her left hand. He tried not to stare at it.

Katsura also seemed to notice, but did not mention it. "Yes, we are hungry and weary. I can pay." He lifted a heavy bag of gold coins. They clinked lightly as he took a few coins out.

The woman nodded and took the coins before ushering them inside. The entire house smelled of cooking meat, vegetables, and the subtle fragrance of rice. A young man came and bowed lightly before them. "The food is just about ready. Perhaps you would fancy some sake with your dinner."

Both Katsura and Kenshin agreed quickly before seating themselves at the table. Food and sake was quickly brought out and the two hungry men began to eat swiftly.

-

The samurai held up a finger, the others still curled around the ceramic tea cup. "There was my second mistake. I should not have had alcohol, as it slows the mind. I knew this from basic training, but, as I said before, logic was not on my mind. But, I digress. I, being observant by nature, studied everything carefully."

-

Kenshin immediately noticed a beautifully painted sliding door, half open. On it was a meticulously drawn painting of a bamboo copse and mountain peaks in the background. It was a scene of winter, depicted with everything lightly dusted in snow. It must have cost a great deal of money.

The young man noticed Kenshin's interest and smiled proudly. "My great-grandfather painted this. He was an artist known all over Japan. It was his last work, according to my father."

Kenshin nodded. "It is a very beautiful piece." He blinked once. He yawned. He blinked rapidly before yawning again.

Katsura yawned as well and stood up. "Forgive us, but we are very tired and wish to sleep."

The young man nodded and opened another door before ushering them into a room. After unrolling their beds, he left and both employer and employee were soon sound asleep.

-

"My third mistake," said the samurai. "My third mistake was falling asleep. No doubt the alcohol helped. I should have stayed awake and kept watch over my benefactor." Another sip. "Ah, but I doubt it were even possible to do so."

-

Kenshin awoke with a start, his body aching for some reason. Suddenly, he froze. Gone were the house and the comfortable futon. He had been sleeping on the ground. The dirt path leading to the house to be precise. Glancing around, he swiftly saw Katsura sleeping beside him. He sighed and shook his employer's shoulder. The man grunted in his sleep and rolled over. After a bit more shaking, he awoke and looked around groggily. Suddenly realizing their surroundings, he popped to his feet and began patting his clothes.

"We've been had, Himura. They drugged the sake, I'm sure of it. They stole our money and…" He pulled the money bag from his pocket and shook it. It jangled, full. Opening it, he carefully pulled out a coin and weighed it in his hand. Katsura scratched his head. "Huh," he said, a quizzical look stamped on his face. "It's all here."

Kenshin rubbed his chin. "Why on earth did they drug us and then leave us out here? My money, swords, and clothing are all fine as well." He glanced around, vaguely noticing the bamboo copse they had passed just yesterday. He noticed the bamboo shoots again. "Let us go back and speak with our hosts. They have some talking to do."

The walk to the inn seemed far shorter than it had the day before. Birds twittered, sunlight danced between the swaying leaves of trees, grass shuffled beneath their feet. It was tranquil. Then, they saw the inn.

It was indeed the same house they had seen the day before, but now it seemed much older. The freshly thatched roof that he had noticed the other day sagged and the straw was old and grew with mildew. The front porch was dirty and the young woman no where to be seen.

"Hello?" Katsura called out nervously. The sound of shuffling feet and the door sliding back announced someone answering.

An old grey woman glanced out at them, her eyes nearly hidden behind heavy wrinkles. Her steps were shuffling and her back was bent with many years. "H-hello? Yes, can I help you?"

Katsura spoke quickly, his actions becoming slowly panicky. "Wh-what happened to the inn? It looks so old."

"Inn?" the old lady asked. "Oh, this house hasn't been an inn for nearly twenty years. Ever since Koji died." She blinked. "How did you know this was an inn?"

Katsura laughed uneasily. "You might not believe it, but when we fell asleep last night, this was an inn and there was a young lady with six fingers on her left hand. She and her husband let us stay here for the night.

The old woman's eyes widened. Slowly, she held up her left hand, displaying six, arthritis-twisted fingers. "P-perhaps we should speak inside."

Kenshin had suspected that the old woman was in truth the young woman in disguise, but her fingers were truly gnarled and her wrinkles were truly there. She was not in disguise, at the very least. He as well suddenly felt panic, sharing the worried glances with his employer.

The interior of the house was musty and smelled heavily of ash. Furniture had been moved from one place to another, but it was relatively the same. There was even the ornamentally painted door, depicting the summer bamboo copse and the mountain. But now, there was a jagged gash that seemed as if the occupants had tried to repair. Surely, they would not have ruined such an expensive item for a ruse. Kenshin swallowed hard.

-

"Now, I must tell you. A great fright seized me as I realized this. And the old woman certainly did nothing to dispel our discomfort." Sip.

-

"Oh my, I remember you, Sir Samurai. I could never forget your red hair." Her face crinkled curiously. "But, you should be far older than me." She poured tea into Katsura's outstretched cup.

Kenshin cleared his throat. "What do you mean, older than you?" He dreaded the answer.

"Why, when I saw you last, it was nearly fifty years ago."

Clump!

Katsura dropped his cup, his eyes widening considerably. "F-fifty years? Th-that's n-not possible."

The old woman slowly picked up his cup of tea. "But to be sure it is. It was indeed nigh fifty years." She smiled at Kenshin. "Some people have the most memorable faces and I indeed remember you. However, we were rather surprised when we came into your room the next day and did not find you."

Katsura seemed as if he were about to scream. He clutched at his head. "N-no, my business, my family, my friends. My dear wife is older than me by far. Perhaps she has died. My children have children. My associates have split my hard-earned savings. No, this is not happening."

Kenshin gripped his sword hilt, as if seeking reassurance. "We have slept through fifty years of our lives."

The old woman looked at the two men with distressed eyes. "You know, there was one other man who claimed the same. He was at first furious, thinking that he had cheated him of something. We told him that there is a shrine, not far from here. If he were to put three hundred gold pieces at the altar, than he may be taken back to his appropriate time. After all, a little prayer never hurt anyone. Or some giving." She refilled Katsura's cup. "I never saw him again."

Katsura pulled his head out of his hands, hope gleaming in his eyes. "Where is the shrine?"

The old woman nodded. "So you wish to leave as well?"

"Where is the shrine, old woman?" Katsura nearly yelled.

"Temper, temper. If you follow the path to my house back to the road, you will see another path across from you on the other side. Follow that path and leave your money at the small shrine altar."

Katsura rose to his feet immediately. Kenshin stood as well, still gripping his swords. Something was bothering him, taunting him from the back of his mind. He hurriedly followed Katsura outside, trying to brush the nagging feeling he was missing something. They once again passed the bamboo copse and Kenshin stopped, staring at the bamboo. Something clicked.

"Katsura, sir, wait for a moment." Kenshin motioned for Katsura to come stand beside him. Pointing at the bamboo, Kenshin looked meaningfully at Katsura. "Look at the bamboo shoots. Did you notice them last night?"

Katsura, not quite understanding, nodded his head. "Yes, I could only think of how good they would be boiled and served with some chicken and rice."

The samurai nodded. "I as well. Now, tell me, how large does bamboo grow in fifty years?"

Katsura looked at the bamboo nonplussed. "Hundreds of…feet." His brow furrowed. "They fooled us. But why?"

Kenshin slowly pulled out his katana. "Simple. Once you put all of that money on the altar, you would be forced to come back here, because there is no other inn on this road. They would allow you to spend the night, drugging you again. While you slept, they would go find the money, and put the house back the way it was."

"But what of the old woman. Surely, that could not have been a disguise."

"And it wasn't. Come."

They swiftly arrived back at the little inn. Without bothering to announce themselves, they burst into the house. The old woman stared at them, wide-eyed. Kenshin leveled his sword at the ground. "Tell me, old woman, where are your grandchildren?"

"Gr-grandchildren?"

"Now, or I shall tear this house down to find them."

"No," said a youthful voice. "We are coming." The young woman and her husband stepped out, their eyes staring at the floor. "Forgive us, samurai. We were only trying to get by."

"Bu-but how did you know?" the young man stuttered.

"Bamboo shoots. Also, I realized that the painting on the door I saw before was of winter." Kenshin pointed at the door with the jagged tear. "That one is of summer. I almost did not catch that." He glared at the deceitful occupants. "Now, what to do with you."

All three began to bow low and fast. "Spare us, please. We promise that we shall never deceive innocent travelers again. Spare us."

Kenshin smirked and glanced over at Katsura, who was looking at him satisfactorily. "I shall spare you," Kenshin said slowly. "But I shall be watching to see if you indeed uphold your promise." With that, he sheathed his sword and walked out of the inn.

-

"Hah, that showed 'em," cheered the little boy.

Kenshin smiled and drained the last of his tea. "And indeed, I have been checking to see if they had deceived any others. Right?" He quirked an eyebrow at the graying woman.

The woman smiled. "You have indeed."

The little boy squealed. "Mama, you did that?"

A sigh. "I did. We could do it because my grandmother had six fingers as well. It was quite the ruse." She smiled. "Almost fooled you, didn't I, Sir Samurai."

"Almost," smirked Kenshin, holding his teacup for more. "Almost."

* * *

Yeah, this is an apology sort of story because I haven't kept at "The West's Blade Runner" or "The Tolling Bell". Sorry, I might have a chapter for "The Tolling Bell" soon.

Anyway, this was an adaptation of a story I read quite a while ago. All I did was stick Kenshin in it. This was fun to write. I don't know why, just was.

-Razvanor


End file.
